


Sharing a Room

by xslytherclawx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Background JJBella, Friends to Lovers, M/M, NSFW Yurio Week, Suggestive Themes, off-screen sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: Everyone already thought that Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky were in a secret, long-term relationship, anyway, so no one batted an eyelash at the idea that they would share a room together at Worlds.They weren't together.Yuri wanted to change that, and he had the perfect plan: show up naked on Otabek's bed.





	Sharing a Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyaasnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaasnow/gifts).



> I figure Yuri's probably 19 - 20 here?
> 
> I got the idea for this while talking to some people from the Big Bang on ICE discord server, namely Nari and Kyaa, about Yuri's impulsiveness, and I decided to write this up for NSFW Yurio Week. No warnings, because I'm the most vanilla and also don't know how to write smut.
> 
> Also!! this is a standalone fic; not relevant in any of my series!

As a rule, Otabek always looked forward to the competitions he shared with Yuri Plisetsky. It wasn’t _just_ because he was in love with him (although that was definitely part of it), but even though, relatively speaking, Almaty and St. Petersburg weren’t very far apart, they didn’t see as much of each other as Otabek would have liked.

Besides, watching Yuri skate live was always an experience he treasured.

This year, they’d managed to convince their coaches to let them room together at Worlds.

Otabek knew, of course, as everyone else did, that the entire world, more or less, was convinced that he and Yuri had a longstanding secret relationship, but the fact of the matter was that there was nothing of the sort between them. Otabek was in love with Yuri, and he was positive that he was completely transparent, but he sincerely doubted that his feelings were returned in any way, and that was okay. They were best friends, and that was just fine. Otabek was perfectly content to spend as much time with him as possible.

Otabek got into Grenoble a few hours after Yuri, and the two of them somehow got dragged along by Jean-Jacques and Isabella Leroy for dinner. If he were honest, Otabek had been hoping that Yuri’s dislike for JJ would let them have some time alone, but to his slight horror (and eternal fascination), Yuri, through the years, had somehow managed to forged a strange _friendship_ with Isabella… which mostly consisted of talking shit about everyone together.

And, okay, sure, at least JJ spoke French, even if it was Québecois, so it made figuring out what to order a little less stressful. He and JJ mostly talked about music while Yuri bitched to Isabella about how gross Katsuki and Victor were (even though everyone knew that Yuri really loved them). Halfway through trying to sell Otabek on the merits of Nickelback, JJ paused to glance across the table at his wife, who was telling Yuri a story about some _particularly_ passionate JJ’s Girls.

“You know, Beks,” JJ said, “we’re both really lucky.”

“What do you mean?”

JJ gestured vaguely to Isabella and Yuri, who were so caught up in their conversation that they didn’t even notice. “We’re friends, and our significant others are friends.”

“JJ…” Otabek started.

JJ waved him off. “I know, I know. You’re not dating him… yet.” He gave Otabek some sort of significant look. “But you two are as perfect for each other as Bella and I are.”

Otabek tried to shrug him off, but the truth was that he didn’t disagree. The only problem was that he’d yet to figure out how the hell a long-term relationship between himself and Yuri would work when they lived so far apart. It was different for JJ and Isabella; they both lived in Toronto, and Isabella’s job as a graphic designer afforded her some level of flexibility to join her husband at competitions. Otabek didn’t feel like he was ready to retire, and Yuri definitely wanted to compete as long as humanly possible.

Maybe in a few years, once Otabek had retired…

* * *

Otabek went to take a shower after he and Yuri got back to their room (which, of course, had two beds – Otabek was grateful for this, because he wasn’t convinced that his and Yuri’s coaches knew that they _weren’t_ together). Yuri had waved him off and assured him that it was fine.

Maybe it was the wine with dinner, but when Otabek left the shower, he’d gotten the idea in his head that they should talk about it. Just talk, that would be enough, right? Otabek could at _least_ figure out if Yuri were interested. And if he weren’t, he could start to move on.

And if he were… well, they could figure something out.

So Otabek put on his boxers and sweatpants and steeled himself before going out into the room. Maybe he shouldn’t do this right before a competition. It was probably just the wine. But, well, they had to talk about it before they left.

He opened the bathroom door. “Yura, hey can we…” He stopped short when he saw just what, exactly, Yuri was doing.

Yuri Plisetsky was lying, completely fucking naked, on Otabek’s bed.

“Uh.”

“I know we have a competition tomorrow,” Yuri said, “but that doesn’t mean that we can’t do _anything_.”

Otabek blinked. Okay, so he wasn’t hallucinating. This was happening. Yuri was _actually_ naked on his bed. And coming on to him. Holy fucking shit.

After a few seconds of continued silence, Yuri frowned. “Fuck, Beka, what’s your problem?”

“What’s _my_ problem? Yura, before thirty seconds ago, I had no idea you were even _interested_ in me!”

“That’s fucking stupid. Of _course_ I’m interested in you.”

“Yuri, please put some clothes on,” Otabek tried. “And then we can talk.”

Yuri huffed. “Why, so you can give me some bullshit about me being too young, or whatever?”

“No,” Otabek said. “Of course not. But I’d like to actually _talk_ to you about this. And talking’s generally easier when both parties are fully clothed.”

“If you’re doing this just to be a dick…”

“I’m _not_ ,” Otabek assured him. “Look, I’ll go into the bathroom for another minute, and then we’ll talk.”

“ _Fine_.”

Otabek went back into the bathroom and tried to process what had just happened. Well, at least he didn’t think he had to worry about Yuri not being interested in him – at least sexually, if nothing else. Otabek wanted Yuri to want to date him… but, hell, if sex was all Yuri wanted, Otabek wasn’t about to turn him down for that, either. As long as they were able to remain friends.

He was so lost in his thoughts that it took Yuri rapping on the door and saying, “I’m dressed; you can come out now, I guess,” to draw Otabek out of his thoughts.

He opened the door. Yuri was leaning against the wall, wearing pyjama pants and an old Panic! at the Disco shirt with Brendon Urie’s face on it.

“I swear to fucking god, Beka, if you say I’m too young, or whatever.”

“You’re not too young,” Otabek said. “But I want to know what you want.”

Yuri shrugged. That wasn’t encouraging.

Otabek decided to try another route. He walked over to his bed and sat down at the foot of it. “Do you just want sex, or do you actually want a relationship with me?”

Yuri hesitated. “I thought we’d talk about it after we had sex.”

“Okay,” Otabek said. “But I want to talk about it _before_ we do anything.”

“Fine,” Yuri said. He didn’t move from his spot against the wall. “I guess… I want… whatever the hell you want.” He shifted, visibly uncomfortable.

“That’s not very helpful, Yura. Do you know what I want?”

Yuri shrugged. “You clearly don’t want to fuck me.”

“That’s not true at all,” Otabek said, hoping that he sounded more put-together than he felt.

Yuri’s scowl actually dropped a bit at that. “What?”

“Yura, I’ll be honest with you,” Otabek said, trying to will his voice to be level. “I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t look up to meet Yuri’s eyes. How could he? “And… if you just want to have sex, as long as we stay friends, that’s fine.”

“Oh my fucking _god,_ Beka,” Yuri groaned. “You don’t need to be so fucking _noble_.”

Otabek shrugged his shoulders, and after a few seconds, he felt a dip in the bed as Yuri sat down next to him.

“You’re so fucking stupid, really,” Yuri said. Well, he was right about that. “How long?”

He shrugged again. “A few years.”

“A few _years_ ,” Yuri said. “Shit. I guess I’m the idiot, then.”

“You’re not an idiot, Yura.”

Yuri snorted. “I don’t know about _love_ ,” he said, “but I’ve _wanted_ you since Barcelona. And… somehow, through the years… I’m in love with you, too, you asshole.”

Otabek was able to meet his eyes then. “Wait, really?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously_.” He shrugged. “I mean, when we met… I didn’t think anything could distract me from skating, but then you were there and… you wanted to be friends. No one wanted to be my friend before, and I didn’t want to fuck it up, but it’s not like I ever _didn’t_ want to fuck you.”

“So if we do this,” Otabek said, “long distance will be a bitch. I’ve still got another few years before I retire.”

“I mean,” Yuri said, looking down to his lap. “I’m not saying you have to do this, or anything, but Yakov’s made a few fucking obvious remarks about how he’d be happy to have you train at our rink.”

“Oh,” Otabek said.

“And you don’t have to. But if you want to. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. And, well… I have an extra bedroom.”

Was Yuri asking him to move in with him?

“If you want, anyway. Pyotya likes you, and that asshole doesn’t like anyone but me. Pretty sure I’ve got about a hundred texts from Georgi already about various cat-related injuries.”

“You really want to move in together?”

Yuri shrugged. “Different rooms, at first, at least. If it doesn’t work, you can at least stay until you find your own place. Piter’s not terrible.”

“I’ll talk to my coach.”

Yuri slid closer to him. “So, are you going to kiss me now, or what?”

Otabek was only too happy to oblige.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, JJ sat down at their table, grin wider than Otabek had ever seen it. “Have fun last night, boys?”

“Not so much that we can’t both still kick your ass, Leroy,” Yuri said. “We were _very_ careful about that.”

JJ laughed. “Glad to see sex mellows you out, Plisetsky,” he teased.

Yuri didn’t deny that he and Otabek had had sex the previous night. “We’ll see who’s laughing when my boyfriend and I keep you off the podium.”

“Boyfriend? And all in one night. You two definitely had a productive night.”

“Will you two ever stop antagonising each other?” Otabek asked.

“Was Jean-Jackass a virgin on his wedding night?” Yuri countered.

JJ didn’t seem too bothered by this, and took a sip of his coffee. “I’m Catholic.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and leaned down to whisper in Otabek’s ear. “If we keep him off the podium, I will let you do _whatever_ you want to me after our exhibition skates.”

Otabek felt himself blush. “Sorry, JJ,” he said. “But I think Yuri and I will have to keep you off the podium.”

JJ snorted. “You think Bella hasn’t promised me the same thing if I medal?”

“You’ve had sex with her literally _hundreds_ of times,” Yuri said. “Somehow… I don’t think that’s as much of a motivator.”

“We’ll see about that,” JJ said. “ _When_  I medal… you have to say something positive about me on social media.”

“And when you _don’t_ ,” Yuri said, “you have to admit – publicly  – that _I’m_ the best figure skater in the world.”

JJ rolled his eyes and held his hand out. “Deal. Be prepared to talk about how great I am, Plisetsky.”

Yuri shook his hand. “Enjoy that ego while it lasts.”

Isabella came over to the table at that moment, plate full of the kinds of delicious food that Otabek wasn’t allowed in the skating season. “Why are they like this?” she asked.

“Well,” Otabek said, “they _are_ professional athletes. And each other’s best competition.”

“Hey,” Yuri said. “Don’t fucking sell yourself short, asshole. _You’re_ my biggest competition.”

* * *

In the end, Yuri got gold, and Otabek bronze – just beating out JJ by a little over a point.

JJ grumbled and told a reporter that he considered fourth a great achievement, and if anyone could beat him out for third, he was glad it was his former rinkmate. And, as promised, he threw in a line about how, “Plisetsky is – I guess – the best figure skater in the world.”

Yuri kept up his end of the bargain, too. After they’d showered and changed after their exhibition skates, they went back to their hotel room and made good use of the bottle of lube and box of condoms Yuri had packed.

When they finally collapsed on the bed together, sweaty and exhausted, Otabek couldn’t help but grin. “Holy shit.”

“There’s more where that came from if you come to Piter,” Yuri said. He kissed him, long and deep. “Because I have over three _years_ of wanting to fuck you senseless built up.”

“I will _definitely_ talk to my coach at the banquet.”

“You’d better,” Yuri said. “Because if we can only see each other a few times a year… I don’t know how we’d manage to compete.”

“Certainly don’t want that,” Otabek said.

“Maybe we could even see if we could change your flight… get you a layover in Piter…”

“Somehow I don’t think I’d complain…”

Yuri hummed. “We _should_ probably get ready for the banquet,” he said. “Yakov will bitch at me all night if we’re too late.”

“…We can always leave early,” Otabek suggested. “Sneak off.”

Yuri grinned. “I like the way you think, Altin.”


End file.
